


It's The Thought That Counts - Secret Santa

by incenseandteacups



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cunnilingus, GUESS WHAT, I've never actually typed the specific porn in the tags, M/M, Trans Fenris, Trans Male Character, Wow, but since this is a gift I suppose I should warn you, it'll be wild, somebody's anus is gonna get fingered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 09:52:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5581279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incenseandteacups/pseuds/incenseandteacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since Fenris doesn't have an official birthday, Anders gets him a present on First Day, the Fereldan New Years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's The Thought That Counts - Secret Santa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catpawz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpawz/gifts).



> THIS IS SO LATE I'M SO SORRY  
> I had fun writing this! (although I had to rewrite like half of it cause my computer flunked out) I may write a short continuation later, but for now, Merry Christmas, to tumblr user chicaaago!

“You joining us for the celebration tonight, Blondie? I hear they’re pulling out the good brandy at the Hanged Man.” Varric lounged against the wall of his clinic, unsticking Bianca’s trigger. Hawke waggled his eyebrows, laying back on one of the wooden cots that filled Anders’ clinic as Anders set down a freshly-drained lyrium potion. Their mission had drained his mana, and the sluggish walk back to his clinic wasn’t nearly long enough to restore it. His hands glowed anew, hovering over Hawke’s broken leg.

 

“Maker, would I love to, but I have an unfortunately timed illness to take care of. Fenris decided First Day was the perfect time to catch cold.” He answered. At the same time, the dislodged bone in Hawke’s leg rearranged itself, resulting in a high yelp. Anders tutted. “Come on now, Hawke, I know this isn’t the first fracture you’ve had.”

 

Hawke huffed, but Anders noted with pleasure that he was no longer grimacing with pain. “Keep that teasing up, and I won’t give you that name-day present you asked me to smuggle from Athenril.”

 

Anders eyes widened. “You got it?”

 

The rogue’s grin was infectious. “Woven from the finest silk Orlais has to offer, or so said the seller. And I think the green will match his eyes.” Anders put a renewed burst of magic into his leg, skin and bone knitting together in an instant. He then pushed away from the cot, his smile a mixture of excited and anxious. His exhaustion had been forgotten, replaced with anticipation.

 

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

 

Varric snorted, giving an experimental press on Bianca’s trigger. He hummed with satisfaction when it pulled cleanly. “Blondie, you could give that elf a dead nug with a bow and he’d make a pedestal for it.” While that might have been true, it didn’t exactly ease Anders’ worries. Hawke waved a dismissive hand, hopping up and stretching his leg a few times.

 

“He’ll love it, Anders. Now, come on, I’ll have Orana pack you lovebirds a meal while you pick up your gift. Some broth for Fenris, you think? I’d hate to see him puke all over cloth that expensive.”

 

**

 

Anders was in a downright cheery mood as he entered Fenris’s mansion, stepping over familiar broken tiles in the entrance - it had taken ages just to convince him to clean out the dead bodies. In one hand, he held a basket with a flask of hot broth and a few bread rolls prepared by Orana. The smell was so rich and pleasant that he’d been hard-pressed not to stop and eat it on the way to Hightown, but he'd checked himself each time he reached down for what he knew wouldn't be 'just a sip', no matter how many times he thought it would. In the other hand, he gripped a paper-wrapped package tied around with a thin string. “Fenris! I have a surprise for you!”

 

There was silence as he ascended the stairs, but a loud groan finally met him as he opened the door to Fenris’s room. Two pointed ears stuck out from a mess of blankets in the dark, but Anders remained unperturbed. He placed his items on the ground, circling the room to light candles. “ _Fasta vass_ , mage, let me sleep.” The grumble finally came. Anders had been wondering if Fenris was dead, after all – normally he would have growled some insult by the time Anders lit the second candle.

 

“As if! Do you know what today is, Fenris?” Anders pinched the wick of another candle between his fingers, sparks coming off his skin as he lit it.

 

“Your last?” The words were punctuated with a groan that tried to be threatening.

 

Anders ignored the remark. “It’s First Day, the beginning of the year, and we’re going to celebrate!” Satisfied with the lighting of the room, he picked up the basket, setting it on the table against the wall and filling a mug with broth. “I’ve got something else for you, too, but you have to come drink this first. You aren’t going to get any better if you don’t get some fluids in you.”

 

Fenris mumbled some insults in Tevene – Anders wasn’t sure when to tell him that he’d actually picked up the meanings of a few words. All the same, he crawled out of bed, eyes red and hair ruffled. When his armor was off, it was easier to see the swell of breasts under his tunic, the curve hips that were slightly more angular than Anders’ own – and he rather prided himself on his defined hips. Of course, that was likely more due to Fenris's being an elf than anything else. Anders would trade his staff for a figure like an elf’s.

 

Fenris’s jaw cracked with a yawn, throwing his weight into a chair and picking up the mug that waited there. Anders tapped his feet, glancing at the package beside him as he settled down into a chair as well. “There are rolls, too, but I want to see how you stomach the broth before I let you eat anything solid.” His fingers tapped the wood.

 

They sat there in silence for a moment, Fenris sipping every so often at the broth, before the elf finally broke the quiet. “Mage.”

 

“Elf?” Anders responded, nerves making him snappish. What if Fenris didn’t like it, after all? What if Anders had overstepped some boundary? Perhaps he should just wait.

 

Fenris huffed in something that seemed like amusement. Anders was getting better at telling. “You are nervous.”

 

“I am not!” Yes, he was. But he’d wear Andraste’s granny panties and dance in front of the Knight-Commander before he’d admit it out loud. 

 

“What is that?” Fenris nodded to the package. Anders swallowed. Well, nothing to do now except go for it.

 

He picked it up, fiddling with the tied string as he explained. “Um…well, you don’t remember your birthday, right? Even from before you got your tattoos. So I thought, why don’t we just choose a day to celebrate it, instead? And then I realized I ought to get you some sort of present, if we’re celebrating a birthday, but you don’t really seem to fancy things that aren’t swords or armor, and everyone knows I’ve got shit taste in swords and armor, so…” He paused. “I’m rambling. Here, just…open it.” With that, Anders shoved the package forward.

 

Fenris looked rather curious, taking it and slowly untying the strings. Too slowly. Did he have to choose now to be so methodical? As Anders squirmed, he caught the elf’s eyes as he glanced up and smirked. The asshole was teasing him. “I’m going to poison your broth.” He muttered.

 

Finally, the paper wrapping was peeled away, revealing a folded piece of emerald cloth. Hawke had done well - it almost the same shade as his eyes, if not matching. A conversation Varric had had with Bethany some time ago came to mind.

 

Fenris, bemused, picked it up, blinking as it unfolded into what appeared to be a sleeveless tunic. “Anders…?” He questioned, and Anders hopped to his feet, biting his lip. Those eyes were huge, sweet Maker, why did elves have such big eyes? And Hawke had been right, in addition to his knack for color. The fabric complimented them perfectly.

 

“Here, stand up, I’ll help you put it on. And…close your eyes.” He added as an afterthought.

 

Fenris looked doubtful, but did as he was asked, standing. Anders slowly pulled up his tunic, taking enough time that he could be stopped if Fenris wanted him to. The elf’s ears flushed as his shirt was removed, but otherwise he said nothing, eyes remaining closed.

 

Anders slipped the green cloth over Fenris’s head, appreciating the contrast against his skin as he did. He tugged it down and into place, adjusting a few edges until he was satisfied. He proceeded to pull Fenris’s tunic back on over it, receiving a questioning grunt from the elf.

 

Taking Fenris’s hand, he led him over to a mirror, holding his breath. “Alright, you can…open your eyes.”

 

Fenris stared at his reflection, not saying a word. His chest was flattened beneath the binder, the silk soft but firm. The curve of breasts was no longer visible, his torso slim, but flat. He…he looked…

 

“Mage.” Fenris turned around, heat in his eyes. Anders looked as though he were facing down a raging bronto.

 

“…yes?”

 

The next thing he knew was the crush of lips against his own, a hand curled in his tunic. He grunted when his back hit the wall, laughing breathily with relief as they separated. “You like it, then?” Another kiss, softer, was his response. “I’m glad.” His lips turned up against Fenris’s, now, and he pulled back to mumble, “You can’t wear it for more than a few minutes right now, though, because it’ll restrict your breathing and you’re already sic-mmph!”

 

A tongue pushed into his mouth to silence him, and he scowled through a moan, brows furrowing in a mixture of annoyance and pleasure. “Hush, mage.” Was all Fenris said, pulling him forward towards the bed in the corner of the room. He just stumbled along, despite knowing that Fenris was well on his way to wearing himself out – what an irresponsible healer.

 

**This is undignified.**

 

_Shut the fuck up, Justice._

 

**The elf is going to be injured.**

 

Fenris pushed him onto the bed – a little roughly, but Anders didn’t mind – and practically fell on top of him, mouthing at where his jaw met his neck. He listened to the elf’s breathing through electric jolts of pleasure, shooting down his spine with every scrape of teeth against skin. Heavy, which was normal. Slightly strained, but not any different from before he’d put the binder on – just sick. Good. He’d given Hawke very specific measurements, and the rogue hadn’t disappointed – Fenris should even be able to wear this during battle.

 

_I think he’ll hurt me more than he can possibly injure himself if I stop us for that._

 

He was jolted from his thoughts by Fenris placing their palms together. “Mage.” Anders blinked, taken by surprise, but muttered a quiet spell. His hand suddenly dripped with grease, which Fenris slicked his own fingers with.

 

“Getting the…” Anders broke off with a gasp, his trousers and smalls pulled down together with one smooth tug. A finger pressed abruptly into him, making him hiss between his teeth. “Full treatment today, huh?” He finished breathily. A kiss to his stomach was a response. How Fenris pulled off such passion was beyond him – he’d look absolutely ridiculous, so serious and intense, but the elf looked like a virgin’s wet dream.

 

It was a few minutes of silence before a second finger was added, small moans and wet kisses breaking the quiet every so often. They’d done this more than a few times, but this was looking to be like the best so far.

 

“Hn…there.” Anders’ hips jerked with a certain press of the fingers within him, and Fenris hummed, low in his throat, before repeating the motion. He shifted, pressing himself up and between Anders’ legs before going back to his ministrations on a neck that was already beginning to blossom blue and purple. Anders squirmed, caught his lip between his teeth and turned his head away. His elbows were shaking as they pressed into the mattress, barely able to hold him up anymore.

 

A hand finally wrapped around his cock, firm and slick as he was pumped slowly. The fingers in him tenaciously massaged at his prostate, hips rocking in an attempt to get out some of the sensations jolting through him. Anders pressed his face into Fenris’s shoulder. “Fenris…I’m…” His breath hitched, words cutting off.

 

Fenris punctuated his quiet reply with a squeeze of Anders’ cock, close enough to his ear to send shudders down his back. “Go ahead, Anders.” The intimacy of hearing his name pass from those beautiful lips, in that silky voice, was too much. Anders tensed, shook with the jolts of pleasure that rushed through him, and came, hot and wet into Fenris’s hand.

 

They didn’t move for a long moment, until Fenris leaned back on his haunches and licked his hand clean. He didn’t even look embarrassed, damn elf. Anders huffed, his heavy breaths slowly becoming more regular – what kind of magical essences did he have to get imbued with to be that effortlessly arousing? It wasn’t fair.

 

Anders scowled, sitting up and leaning forward until he could reach the back of Fenris’s neck, pulling them together for a slightly frustrated, but very content kiss. “My turn?” Anders whispered in question, teeth sliding in a bite over long ears he’d learned were _very_ sensitive. Fenris purred – and Anders didn’t mean that as a deep hum, he meant that the elf actually _purred_ , Maker help his perverted soul – and nodded, eyes closed.

 

**

 

Anders always forgot how much he loved making his lover moan, particularly one who was normally so prickly on the outside. Every slight intake of breath, every groan, every quiet noise that was barely audible through the teeth clamped around his knuckle, felt like a victory.

 

He’d learned quickly when they first began to make love how much Fenris loved…tenderness. He’d expected something hard, something better described as fucking than lovemaking, if only from the desperate way Fenris had kissed him. Instead, he found that as soon as they reached the bed, it was all soft touches, open-mouthed kisses, the slow rock of hips against each other. Fenris hadn’t gotten any of that affection in his harsh life; any intimacy he’d had was forced, harsh, a violation rather than a gift. He craved gentleness in the same way that Anders did, touch-starved from his time at the Circle.

 

The world had carved them to pieces, but they fit together perfectly.

 

Anders moaned as he pressed his tongue inside Fenris, hands curled around his thighs. Fenris let out the first vocal cry of the night, grinding down and biting down on one fist, his other hand holding the headboard to keep him steady. He was close; Anders had begun to pick up on his tells. If only he were as good at cards as he was at sex; he might actually have the money to buy gifts, instead of begging Hawke into stealing them from his employers.

 

Fenris was a sight when he came. Anders always wished there was some way to preserve that moment, or to explain to the elf how beautiful he was; it was difficult to get him to believe it. His hands were both gripping the headboard, eyes screwed shut, lips parted in a silent cry that had stuck in his throat.

 

A few seconds later, panting, Fenris scooted down, collapsing onto Anders’ chest. It was only when the mage heard his slightly strained breathing that he remembered something; or rather, was reminded. Justice had been oddly silent this whole time, giving them a little space, but he finally spoke up with clear disapproval in his tone.

 

**The elf is still ill.**

 

Anders shot up, earning a startled shout from his elf. “ _Fuck!_ Fenris, take that off!”

 

**

 

His gift proved to be popular, even if Anders didn’t allow Fenris to wear it until a week later, when he was finally recovered from his cold. It was rare that Fenris wasn’t wearing it, even on missions, when his bulky armor covered his chest anyway. Something told Anders it wasn’t just because he liked the way it looked.

 

Bethany and Isabela just about forced him to model it, convincing Fenris to show up for card night with nothing but his plain black tunic. The elf looked just as disgruntled as always, but Anders didn’t miss the tinge of color on those long ears as the whole party showered him with compliments. His own ears got a bit warm when Fenris sat unusually near to him, gaining a look from Varric that was downright vulgar.

 

**

 

“Anders, what are you reading?” Hawke flopped over the mage’s back, looking with the kind of curiosity that said he hadn’t anything better to do at the worn pages. “Voice altering charms? What do you-“ He broke off with a sly grin. “Oh, I see.”

 

Anders shrugged innocently. “What? Satinalia’s coming up.”


End file.
